Whine & Stakeout: Uncensored
by wtsmorningglory
Summary: Sam and Fiona on a stakeout in sass, whiskey, humor, feelings, and revelations involved. Uncensored version. No spoilers. Rated M for realistic portrayal of sex/love, Sam/Fiona. Still being edited and updated. Please R&R! I'll return feedback!
1. Chapter 1

Sam Axe sighed and groaned a little, scratched the permanent five o'clock salt-and-pepper shadow on his face. He put down his binoculars and rubbed his eyebrows, sore from the lookout duty.

Sam and Fionna Glenanne sat in a well known lovers point, eying the docks below. Most people would think an area as such would be the worst for any criminal activity, but for the clever and brave of heart, it is perfect. There won't be any surprises when the police drop by, and they are already anticipating what they are looking for. Just picking off a few clay pigeons of in-car lovers and filling quotas. Michael was away with his mother on a much-deserved cruise and while Sam and Fiona did not appreciate the busywork, it paid well.

"Well Sam, I didn't imagine in your old age that simple surveillance would be so _exhausting_." Fiona added with her typical sarcastic emphasis.

"Very funny, Fi, for someone pushing their own expiration date. After all, we men only get more dashing with age... like a fine wine," Sam shot back with a wink.

"... or a two buck chuck turned into turpentine...." Fiona muttered under her breath.

Sam puckered the corner of his lip to a small smirk and raised an eyebrow, "I heard that." Sam looked over at the bottle in between them, "Well, speaking of chuck, as long as we're on the never-ending stakeout..."

A few hours passed, Sam and Fiona were now a few sheets to the wind, a little tipsy, a little goofy. Not exactly protocol for their assignment, but being old pros they knew better than to get entirely drunk. At least Fiona's trademark Irish brass had mellowed.

"There you are Fi, laughing a little. I never knew you had it in you." Sam remarked, with a small hiccup and devilish grin.

Fiona indelicately grasped the head of the bottle and poured herself another shot, with a grip that made Sam feel a brief immature flush. She began to pour Sam another, "Well Sam, there is a lot you don't know about me..."

A clink of their glasses and another shot was downed.

"Enough to know you should enjoy yourself more." Sam shot back, lightheartedly, but Fiona's temper, and her nostrils suddenly flared.

"What would you know about that, Sam. How dare you judge me, of all people. I have a lot to be serious about, unlike you, you...." Fiona gritted her teeth and Sam waited for what he knew he was coming, "You...lazy ass widower fucking banjaxed lush."

"Hey!" Sam exclaimed, "That's MISTER lazy ass widower fucking bah-whatever lush, to YOU." Fiona couldn't help in her lubricated state but start a giggle-snort, and Sam briefly felt his heart pause, but pushed on.

"...And you know things aren't that simple."

Something flickered a few meters away, in the shadows it looked as if their targets were about to begin their drug exchange.

"They never are." Fiona took an aggressive swig, "Or are they? You know what Sam, maybe that's the same for me."

More movement, Sam aggressively grabbed the binoculars, his arm getting tangled in the strap, and peered outward, then returned his gaze to Fiona intently.

"Oh really. Fi, if you try to repeat this, I have complete fucking plausible deniability, and if you bugged me, there will be revenge like you have never seen, but you have everything going for you and the only thing that's dragging you down is that hot ass temper of yours and your proclivity for banging your head against a wall. Perhaps that's your fetish?"

Fiona's nostrils flared hotly again and her eyes widened. She leaned forward from her position against the door of the bench-seated Cadillac, she crossed her arms but then began to point.

"Oh-oh-oh, here we go. You of all people are going to get analytical on me, where'd you pick up that vocabulary sailor, the self-help section of Borders? And what the fuck is that supposed to mean, Dr. Freud?" She moved in closer, almost daring him.

Sam began to get more intense, and the crunching of gravel in the distance did not phase him as it usually should. He took a big breath and said what he hadn't been able too all these years, but a dab of liquid courage goes a long way.

"Don't play stupid, Fi. I love Michael as much as you, in a completely heterosexual way, and you two are a great team, but God dammit something about it, him, you, fate, whatever, isn't going to let it happen and you have to let it go. You've made your whole life revolve around him, everything. I'm not going to bullshit you and say he doesn't care for you, but you can't live your life waiting for Mikey to shit or get off the pot, it's just not going to happen."

Fiona moved in closer. Feeling a mixture of rage, surprise, and inquisitiveness at Sam's begrudgingly accurate insight.

"Well what the FUCK, would you have me do Sam? Live a loveless life of margaritas and cheap Hawaiian shirts like you? At least I still have a heart."

More crunching.

"God DAMNIT Fi." Sam hit the bottom of his palm against the leather steering wheel, "I want you to appreciate what you have, the people who are here, do care about you, and only want the best for you. You have Mikey, **but you have me too**. And you can have anything in this world if you go for it. I want you to have forward momentum in your capable life, I want you have a smile on your face and I want _you_..."

Fiona started to listen, but didn't have a chance for his words to hit her, as their targets slowly approached the car, checking for activity. She quickly pulled Sam forward by his collar and with hesitation brushed her lips against his, but when her pupils dilated, seeing the flashlights, she remembered her role and pressed them intently against Sam's lips and grizzled face.

Sam was caught off guard. He wasn't a teenager though, and wasn't unfamiliar with having to play out a lover's scenario, even with someone he had a strained relationship with. What did caught him, just a little off guard, was the urgency and natural way he pulled her usually-to-petite-for-him body towards him, his hands along her back, sliding her towards him and dipping her down. He pulled her very close to him, kissing her intently and opened his mouth slightly, in a natural unintended move, wanting to caress her smart ass lips with his tongue and kiss her deeper, but he pulled back and returned kissing her in a safer but as intense manner.

A flicker of a flashlight hit them, and Sam looked behind him to give their targets the perfect deer-in-the-headlights wide-eyed stare, with light lipstick smeared on his face. Fiona, the ever brilliant actress, giving an embarrassed giggle and flush. The stereotypical goons patrolling the area laughed heartily and continued on their way, satisfied that the two steaming up the car were no threat and continued back down the trail to resume business.

Except, as the moon reflected along the bay, Fiona and Sam did not immediately stop for fear of losing their ruse, or stop when the "coast was clear." Sam pulled her ever closer and Fiona found herself instinctively running her hands along the back of his head encouraging him as they unexpectedly, finally, opened their lips further for a needier kiss and let their tongues mingle. Their breath became a little more strained, but as the oxygen hit his brain, Sam felt his life flash before his eyes and reality set back in, gently but urgently moving Fiona back into place, he leaned over and put his elbow on the door and began to rub his temple to ease his running mind.


	2. Chapter 2

A cold silence came over the cabin. Sam made a futile effort to surveil the outside activity, but everything was going to plan and although he should have felt very confused, his mind felt empty. Fiona sat awkwardly in the corner of the passenger side, handing her head slightly. Fiona looked unusually vulnerable for someone who usually reaches for a fist before a high five. She took an aggressive swig or two from the bottle.

"Hey..." Sam said through a slightly rough voice, "Don't hurt yourself."

Fiona exhaled, "I can't anymore than I already have."

Sam strained to find a safe ground in this conversation, "Fi, about what I said..." Fiona raised her hand to him, her whispy brown sugar hair falling over her face.

"Don't. I am not a fucking damsel. I am just... reflecting." Fiona found her brain buzzing. Too many thoughts to even speak, she inched herself closer and took another greedy swig.

"Ohhh... no no no, don't take what I said the wrong... don't.... Fi..." Fiona inched ever closer. "Fi," Sam sighed heavily, "You're drunk. I can't..."

Fiona grabbed his face and pulled his lips to her, kissing him strongly. Sam didn't know what to think, at first his eyes bulged but his instincts took over yet again and found himself kissing her back, pulling her close, opening his mouth and kissing her deeply. She tasted sweet and sharp from the whiskey, just the way she was. Their hands began naturally roaming and they no longer could contain their heavy breathing.

Their wordless make out continued for a fair amount of time. Sam grazed her breast, hesitating about whether to touch her further. He felt a lurch in his heart of desire as his slight graze bore evidence of a hard nipple. He could not contain himself and immediately grabbed her breast and started gently caressing and squeezing it. Fiona continued their intensive kissing and began rubbing her hand along Sam's shoulders, which she suddenly appreciated to be so firm and masculine, down his chest, along his neck, to the front of Sam's pants. Sam immediately felt his prior developing erection grow solid. He tried to catch his breath.

"Hey hey hey!" Sam exclaimed, breathless, "Fi, we can't do this... you're drunk."

"I'm not deaf..." More massaging from Fiona.

"Fi... you're driving me crazy," Sam gasped, "I don't think I can contain myself if you keep going... I-I can't take advantage of you."

Fiona bit her lip and looked at him devilishly, "Fair enough... but _we're_ not doing anything." She continued to massage his solid rock through his pants and began to fumble for a zipper. Sam couldn't help but let and, "Oh God." Escape as Fiona moved away his boxers to reveal his aching cock.

She grasped it gently, but with intensity. It's hard to talk about manhood without getting into cliché, but needless to say Fiona was happy with what she saw and definitely taken with the girth he held in her petite hand. and Sam let out a moan and a groan as she found his lips again and began to pump. Fingers gliding around and caressing his cockhead before sliding back down again.

Sam gasped and intently kissed Fiona as she stroked him, playing with her hair, caressing her breast over her clothing, until Fiona guided it through her open shirt under her bra. He gently applied pressure to her nipples and she moaned and reacted in kind. Sam felt the pressure starting to build within himself.

"Oh God Fi... what are we doing?" He remarked amidst a groan. Her activity continued.

"What?" Fiona replied, "I did what you asked, you're not taking advantage of me... or did you need me to use my mouth?"

The last line was too much for Sam to handle, and he let go completely with a heavy moan. His intense orgasm shooting spasm after spasm along the expensive floor.

A few minutes passed for Sam to recuperate. In his daze he found that he had pulled Fiona close to him, his arms cradling her, her head against his chest.

"Well... I know some floor mats that are going to need dry cleaning..." He quietly joked, hoping to break up the awkwardness. Having Fiona in his arms made his heart quiver in a way of which even their little sexual escapade could not compete with.

Fiona groaned at his joke, stifled a little burp, and the car returned to it's awkward silence. Its windows were now steamed up with genuine affection.

Fiona was now fast asleep in Sam's arms his mind remained in it's confused yet reflective state. He looked out calmly across the bay. So many thoughts were going through his mind, too many to fully grasp. The main one though, as he looked down on the shamrock in his arms, was, "What have I done."


	3. Chapter 3

Fiona was now snoring, and Sam's heart felt heavy with concern. He gently buckled her back into place and drove her home.

It was probably the longest drive Sam had ever made. The only noises to be heard being the other rare car, the main sights to be seen were the low lit street lamps and the blind of oncoming cars. Fiona's hand suddenly caressed Sam's softly, tumbling in a turn, and he felt alive again for a moment.

The tires made the typical soft scrape of, "I'm home" in the driveway as he parked the car. The silence struck him yet again now that there was no Cadillac engine purr. He ever so gently, picked Fiona up, wishing desperately not to disturb her, fearing all sorts of things, including a typical punch.

'This has to be the most easy time I've ever hard with Fiona.' He gently laughed at himself, moving her limp sleeping body. He took every step cautiously through the dark house. When they got to the bedroom, he lifted the comforter carefully and slid her into the bed, tucking her in slightly and moving the wisps of hairs way from her head, caressing it and gazing into her peaceful expression in the moonlight.

In the morning Fiona found her inordinately comfortable. Her head already starting to pound, she squeezed her down comforter and recognized it as her own. Her vision was a bit fuzzy, but she noticed Sam sitting in the chair in the corner, looking quite silly. The picture of masculinity sitting in her girlie woven chair with organza flourishes, looking after her after a drunken night. But isn't that the way it had always been? Fiona could run herself into the fire, on accident or more often on purpose, and Sam would always be there, silent or present, called for or refused, to pick her back up and set her right again.

Sam rubbed his face in exhaustion and concern, as the sun peeked into her bedroom. He wasn't quite sure what to do, but he was satisfied that she was okay. He slowly snuck out. Fiona peered over from her blanket, but didn't have the strength yet to object or even lift herself up.

When Fiona finally found the courage to get out of bed, she brushed herself off and wandered into the kitchen. She squinted her eyes from the haze in the kitchen title and then noticed a now-cold omelette, and a cup of coffee with a small note from a torn piece of paper under it. She picked it up and read:

"Sorry, Sam."


	4. Chapter 4

A few nights had passed and Sam had been pretty much a recluse at his house. Beer and processing feelings were his diet and he could help but feel guilt, and yet indulge himself in his more private moments thinking about that fateful evening. Part of him felt more alive then he'd had in years, but there was a soft sternness that had clouded that feeling out, the concern that he had not only ruined things with his best friend, but really wounded, possibly ruined, someone whom he cared about more than he would acknowledge, a friend when she was vulnerable.

Sam had deep feelings for Fiona for years, but this wasn't a situation of a man waiting wistfully in the wings dreaming of a girl. He wasn't that type of man. It was a deep affection that involved respect, for both Fiona and his best friend. He knew how to compartmentalize his feelings from his days on the payroll, and he never pined. But on retrospect he probably started to fall with the first smart ass smirk thrown his way, and he was feeling bizarre with a curtain lifted to these desires.

Suddenly there was a loud sound at the door, of what he could only assume was a knock, but it was loudly aggressive. Grabbing his gun, he opened the door to find Fiona, beautiful in all her fury, with welled up tears puckering at the corners of her eyes, that she had willed away from rolling down her cheek. In her fist she had the now wrinkled, pithy note from Sam. He put down the gun as quickly as possible when she pushed the note into his chest as she shoved her way into the house, interrupting Sam's stupidly casual, "Hey Fi...."

"What the FUCK is this?" Fiona exclaimed.

"I am so, so very sorry." He replied, taken aback and waiving his hands in the air. Clamoring to express his regret.

"DAMNIT, Sam I don't want your apologizes!" She was snarling, but not her typical aggression, her voice was full of emotion and she was gritting her teeth.

Sam was becoming heartbroken at seeing her like this, but taken aback by her last statement. He lowered his voice and tried to move toward her, "But Fi, I am... Fi..."

She looked at him pointedly, "Where in God's name have you been?"

"Whoa, whoa. I assumed you needed your space. I didn't want to make things any worse then I already have." He was pretty defeated at this point and confused.

Fiona put her hand over her face in frustration and spoke slowly, "Sam... that is the last thing I wanted. I don't... I don't want you to run away. I chased a man before..."She slowly looked up at him, "And I don't ever, ever want to do it again. Please...you were right."

Sam looked around the room as if there was an audience to confirm this monumental confession. He tugged at his Hawaiian shirt, "Me? I was?"

"Just listen. Even when I didn't need it, even when I didn't like it, you always told me what I needed to hear. I never had to chase you down, you were always there. I didn't appreciate any of it, any of it, until the stakeout and the silence that followed. You have always been there for me. And now I finally realize... I...I don't ever want that to change." Sam couldn't help but gape a little. He moved toward her slowly, a little shaky.

You couldn't say Sam was completely mis-characterized as the lonely playboy, but his feelings for Fiona overrode his selfish mode. "I... I'm touched. But, please, I can't have you mistaking your gratitude... for other things. I am not going away, Fi. We will always be friends. You don't need to worry about that."

"You have to make this difficult on me, don't you?" She sighed. "You don't understand. I am also... 'smart' with you because I am... attracted to you. This isn't just about friendship. Sam, I..."

He had put up all his defenses, held back the floodgates, but he was home free now. Everything clicked. He put his hands along her arms and was surprised to find that she was shaky as well. He gently kissed her forehead and placed it with hers.

"Oh Fiona, I..." Sam didn't get the chance to finish, Fiona slapped him abruptly, "THAT'S for not calling me!"

Sam smiled and rubbed his face, "Alright, that was well deserved. So..." Sam could not resist, "Now that you're being smart with me, on a scale of one to ten, how hot for me are you now?" He raised his eyebrows to an evil grin. Fiona started to growl and Sam held her even closer.

"Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you're angry?" Fiona smirked and opened her mouth, but before she had the chance to say a word, Sam grabbed her in a manner that restrained her wrists from another slap, dipped her, and moved in to kiss her, "Shut up, baby. It's my turn...."

FIN


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue

Sam and Fiona's were awaiting the last of the trio in a bar on the beach. Suddenly their fingers discretely and barely intermingled under the table and both felt a mutual spark. They still weren't entirely comfortable with this scenario, and yet they were enjoying the newness and awkwardness. They kept it low-key, but Sam couldn't stifle a little glow.

When Michael Westen, looking sharp as per usual, walked over to the table, they immediately stopped what little of was going on. Michael took off his trademark glasses and placed them on the table.

"Oh, don't stop on my account." Sam uncharacteristically blushed a little awkwardly and pulled at his collar. He started to speak up, but Michael waived his hand and stopped him.

"Look Sam, you don't have to explain anything... more than what Fiona already has. Fi, will you excuse us?" Fiona looked concerned, but left the table.

"Look Mikey, I really can..." Michael waived his hand again and emphasized his next words, "You don't need to. Lets get this straight. I am not, I repeat, not feeling good about this, at all." Sam's heart sunk.

"But Sam... she deserves to be happy," Michael cut himself off, "YOU, yes you, deserve to be happy. We were playing our usual games, but we were not together. Yes, I still do have feelings for Fiona, and I always will, but I can't say that she deserved what I dragged her through or even that things would have been different under different circumstances. This is going to be hard on me, and you know that, but we'll get through this, okay?"

"Jesus Mike, I don't know what to say.. except I owe you one?"

"Yeah well, this is going to take some time and space... and refill the fridge with yogurt and bring your own beer." Michael smiled a little.

"Will do boss, will do."


End file.
